


the earth will never let us flicker out

by Taste_of_Suburbia



Category: From Paris with Love (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Elementals, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Angst, Back Pain, Chronic Pain, Depression, Fire, First Meetings, Fluff, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, I guess you could say this sorta has alpha/omega undertones, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Arson, Implied/Referenced Murder, Implied/Referenced Slavery, M/M, Reece just needs to be loved and forgiven, Romance, Socially Acceptable Slavery, Suicidal Thoughts, Trope Bingo Round 14, Trust and Vows, Wax is an ex-cop, Wax is talkative and kind, h/c_bingo, healing touch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:42:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22072729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taste_of_Suburbia/pseuds/Taste_of_Suburbia
Summary: Reece wasn’t used to anyone wanting him much save for what he could do, save for the heat either trickling out of him like a poisonous gas or pouring out of him like an uncontrollable inferno. He was used to rough hands on his arms, squeezing his wrists as if applying the right pressure points would let it out.Would lethimout.
Relationships: James Reece/Charlie Wax
Kudos: 7
Collections: Hurt/Comfort Bingo - Round 10, Trope Bingo: Round Fourteen





	the earth will never let us flicker out

**Author's Note:**

> Written for h/c_bingo Round 10 for the [prompt](https://immolate-the-silence.dreamwidth.org/34933.html) Chronic illness/Pain, which completes my third and last bingo for this round :)
> 
> Also written for Trope Bingo Round 14 for the [prompt](https://immolate-the-silence.dreamwidth.org/47728.html) Trust and Vows. 
> 
> Elementals AU: Basically, there are 5 types: earth, air, fire, water and unknown (unmarked), the latter of which have minimal control over all four elements. 
> 
> **Soundtrack:** Symbolistic White Walls by Matthew Good Band

_~Symbolistic white walls_

_Surround me and you_

_Every single day_

_I am cheap and see through_

_It’s all right now_

_Take the world and make it yours again~_

* * *

The sky was gray and dull and whirling like a monochrome pinwheel so far above, too far to reach even if his arms would respond to his foolish whims. He was too far down, caked in filth and degradation and pain enough for genuine suffering, body aflame and abused as if he was a steak being seared. He was choking on the cold, the small flakes dripping onto his cheeks more like rain than snow, the birds’ chirrups more a goodbye than a hello.

Reece didn’t blame them. No one stuck around this far out, no one bad or good or neither.

It was only him and the cold and the pain and the almost snow.

And that inner flame keeping him flickering.

Winter was encroaching, fruit drying up and rotting on the sparse branches and Reece could feel himself thinning along with them. And just as life was fleeing these forgotten woods, in this abandoned part of the world, so too was Reece dwindling underneath the sky closing in on him, intent to snuff this small, insignificant thing out for good.

He had tried to carve out a life for himself, but all the virtues he had been born with meant nothing when there was no one to stand up and protect you, no one to put their reputation on the line to find you a decent job, one away from the prejudice fires drew to them like starving wolves drawn to the weak. Reece had lost his family young and had survived on his abilities alone, that and  _only_ that had kept him alive enough to live this day. He had relied on arson for hire rather than sell his body for food and shelter. Not that he wasn’t particularly attractive,  _that_ had always helped get him jobs, but unless society changed its laws, Reece’s status as a fire earned him no rights unless some other elemental - an earth, air or water - were to claim him. 

Reece was too dangerous to be anything but beaten down and compliant.

He was untrustworthy and one mental break away from complete madness.

And then he would be put down.

He could remember all the men, the ones who had kept him in the shadows and away from the government’s radar. He could thank them as much as he could curse them. At least with them the beatings were familiar, the jobs predictable, those he burned mostly guilty and the scorched remains he left behind his mark on the world.

_Yes, I exist. Yes, I am still here._

_Yes, I suffer and I let the whole world suffer along with me._

The fire was a curse, a blessing, a reason for all his misery and a beautiful thing that drew him in and welcomed him and kept him despite all of Reece’s faults, all the mistakes he had made, the buildings he had burned for gain and for one more day of a miserable existence, the people he had accidentally condemned to burn and whom his abilities would not let him heal.

Without the fire he could not exist. He would have died with no claim to this world, the Earth having rejected him.

Even fires had a purpose.

Reece had lived long enough to know he would never find his out.

The fire and the pain had nearly become one and the same. The heat ignited his nerve endings, keeping him chained to the cold Earth, warming him while the ice tried everything it could to encase him. It was only a matter of time before the Earth reclaimed him; he could only hope it would be soon.

* * *

There wasn’t supposed to be anyone this far out.

Reece heard the rustling before he saw the flicker of movement in his periphery. He scrabbled upward onto his knees and then onto his abused hands, baby steps, pushing himself slowly, unsteadily upward, a harsh gust of wind nearly blowing him right back down and how stupid would he look then?

He remembered the holes singed in his shirt, edges and skin underneath dark as soot, matching the ones in his jeans, spaced unpredictably alongside the bloodstains from where he cut his hand on a sharp piece of wood and tried to wipe the red away, frantically, before remembering to run just before the ramshackle house collapsed right on top of him.

He’d almost let it. It would have been ironic, deserved, but there was no telling whether it would have killed him. Fire could kill, yes, even those unlucky few it had bonded with, but it wasn’t a guarantee.

Reece had run, scraped his palms up more on the barks of trees as he flew past them, as the sky filled with smoke and ash and strangled everyone but him, as the world let him have his moment, looked on and laughed despite Reece screaming in his head, only ever in his head…  _Look at what I’ve done. Look what keeps happening. Just let it end. Just let it end please…_

_I am the destroyer._

He didn’t feel much like a destroyer now, dizzy as if his body was warning him of an imminent fainting spell, legs as weak as a kitten’s and holding him up from sheer will alone. It was a miracle he had a will left to accomplish anything.

The stranger was standing ten feet away and he was, unmistakably, a  _man_ . 

Reece’s very blood erupted in fear and he fell back against the nearest wall. He struggled against an overwhelming need to cough, the air he pulled in ragged and cutting at his throat, but instead he swallowed profusely, blinking back the tears of agony and desperation and self-pity. None of it would serve him. He would cower and cave, it was what he did.

What he had done his whole life.

The man progressed, curious now and who wouldn’t be? You’d have to be blind not to know that Reece was a fire, even from this distance. Fires gave out their own signature purer than any other element, making it impossibly difficult to blend in. Maybe it was heat rippling in the air, which Reece could feel even now, or a fire in their eyes, or the Earth marking them for all to see, to be wary of and cast stones at and condemn to forever wander her lands alone.

So of course the man couldn’t resist and brutal truth it was, Reece couldn’t turn away either. The dark silhouette took further shape inch by inch as each second crawled by to its inevitable conclusion. He was tall, immaculately tall to Reece and much more bulkier. His shaved head suggested gang status, though the charms in his ear and at his neck confused him.

Reece waited, nearly closing his eyes in defeat. He waited to be manhandled, to be taken away, to be chained once again into doing things everyone told him he was meant for, things that made him want to throw up and curl into a ball while he denied the truth of hell and denied that he was just a tool, born to be a tool, a tool to carve into the Earth horrible images of despair and cruelty and hopelessness.

Carvings that would fade in time but pain that would never heal.

The man stopped three feet away. He appeared as if he had a purpose, all men did, but it seemed as if he were just as hesitant to act upon it and not out of fear of Reece.

His back was spasming again, taunting him, trying to tear him down to his knees.

Because his fire wanted to be used,  _had_ to be used, had to burn and destroy and cripple him until he was obeisant. 

“I bet your back twinges a bit, huh? Sure looks like it.”

Reece blinked and peered closer. He’d never had anyone acknowledge his pain before, even when he could do everything  _but_ hide it. 

Fires tended to have the most disabilities, mental or physical. Their powers would often manifest in dangerous ways, so it wasn’t uncommon for a fire to have a permanent injury by the close of their ascension, or when one element claimed their host. Often, more than any other element, fire could choose wrong. Deaths were either a result of outright rejection by all four elements, or fire not sealing properly to its host, even with the best intentions. Even when the body accepted and acclimated, the element often played with nerve endings and genetic structure and pain receptors. Reece had fared worse than the other fires he had known, not that he had known many.

Reece was so used to his weaknesses being used against him that he would have ran if he could, if not for being half-starved and halfway to falling down and never getting back up again.

The man continued to progress, slow and steady now as if Reece were an injured, frightened animal; he’d been described as worse. Reece stood where he was, knowing how foolish it would be to turn and bolt even if he imagined he could attempt it. This man had more than a hundred pounds on him and he looked fierce and formidable, even in the low light of early evening.

“Can I give you my jacket?” Reece nodded and took it with no more than a moment of hesitation, not wanting the article of clothing to be revoked. “How long have you been out here?”

Reece didn’t trust himself not to say something stupid, not to spill his whole life story which no one had ever given a damn about, so he shook his head and lowered his eyes. He’d always been here or someplace like here, and if not here than in some slum being someone’s puppet. It was better to hide and starve than to be used, even if he was being fed a meal or two a day, even if he was clean and well-clothed and had some sort of purpose. Even if he could rest his throbbing and also pulsing with shame back on something soft, softer than dried leaves and dirt anyway.

Reece shivered under the threadbare jacket the stranger was kind enough to offer him; it wasn’t much, but it spoke volumes to his overly fatigued body.

“Not much for talking, huh? That’s okay, I’ve been told I do enough talking for five people so…” The man bit his lip and peered around the woods, almost as if deciding something. Reece, uncomfortable but dangerously curious all the same, saw no other recourse but to wait. “I haven’t seen an unclaimed fire in a long while.”

The word sent alarm bells ringing in Reece’s head. He should have known this man’s sole purpose would be to claim him, to  _use_ him until he was nothing again, just a shell Reece would have to build painstakingly back up into some form of a human. 

If he could burn himself to death from the inside out than he would; he would have done it a long time ago.

The man seemed to sense Reece’s unease, for he immediately held up his hands and made himself appear smaller and less of a threat. “No, kid, you just startled me is all. I don’t want anything from you, just for you.”

They’ve said those words before too.

“Shit, I… I tend to speak before I think. You’ve got me all tongue-tied somehow. So let me try again… I just want to help you,  _if_ you want help. And I hope you do, kiddo, ‘cause you ain’t gonna last out here much longer, though I think you know that.” So the stranger saw him as human enough to desire death, to choose this as a viable way out, a way to atone for all the bad he’d done and never be able to scrub away. “I have a rundown little place not far from here, with a fireplace and plenty of kindling waiting. There’s a nice bed, plenty soft for your back, and there’s stew that might just live up to your standards and I’ve got some painkillers stashed too, if you want ‘em. I haven’t had company in a while, so if I seem eager it’s because I’m a lonely guy more often than not.”

Reece got that. He had always been lonely, even when claimed, even when there were dozens of people vying for his rare abilities. There weren’t many fires and better still, after too many lost and wasted years, there weren’t many fires with his skill level. Not only could he control the fire, but he could wield it even when it was largely unchecked by him, formed by instinct alone.

The man seemed to be waiting for Reece to say something.

It was hard when the ground wasn’t solid beneath him,  _was_ but didn’t feel that way, when the sky was still whirling above him and he didn’t feel a part of his own body anymore. But he found that when he tried, he could speak into the air and the Earth heard him and carried his voice. “Wh… wh…,” he cleared his throat, somehow managed to stop stuttering. “What are you?”

The stranger seemed volatile enough to be a fire, but fires didn’t usually cross paths with fires and even if they did, they knew well enough to steer clear. It was hard enough to tame the fire against an unforgiving world, let alone involving matters of pride and status and thinning the herd of a world not nearly large enough to contain even a few fires. The closer Reece peered, however, the less he could actually see. Fires didn’t latch onto any specific element, yet his fire wasn’t pushing back either. It was standing almost still within him as if waiting for something and perfectly content to do so.

It was… disconcerting.

An almost gleeful smile set him even further on his guard and yet… there were no warning signs that he could see. This man didn’t seem dangerous, just normal and that was the strangest part of all, because Reece had never known normal. “I like to dabble in a bit of everything.”

The little air he was inhaling stuttered and froze in his throat. “You’re unmarked?”

Being unmarked was relatively unheard of. It meant that a person specialized in not one specific element but had inklings of all four. No wonder his fire hadn’t reacted and now was doing nothing more than curling up his throat, easing the strain and increasing the burn at the same time. Those unmarked were granted special protection by their government, but in some parts of the world they were still hunted. It all made sense now: his loneliness, his willingness to help, his apparent disinterest in claiming Reece.

Those unmarked were said to be torn into fours, never knowing where they truly belonged, never being able to show favoritism towards one element, understanding all and yet being rejected by all.

There was just enough fire in him to set Reece’s own at ease.

The look on the stranger’s face was enough that Reece could tell he believed he had won. Reece was used to letting everyone win, everyone who took one look at him and found that they could use him, keep him around until their will was done or Reece could no longer take it.

For the very first time, however, Reece truly felt as if he were playing with matches he could never hope to wield control over.

“Now we both know each other’s deepest darkest secret. I’d say that’s the first step in forming a solid, healthy relationship. Well, not always that last part, but my intentions are pure.”

It was funny, how one moment the word  _pure_ could echo throughout his dimming head and the next the man could be so close, close enough to fall into, close enough to hit, close enough to end Reece in one swift blow. 

A mouth captured his, scorching hot and tasting of cinnamon gum and gunpowder and most of all  _lust._ Reece wasn’t used to that, wasn’t used to anyone wanting him much save for what he could do, save for the heat either trickling out of him like a poisonous gas or pouring out of him like an uncontrollable inferno. He was used to rough hands on his arms, squeezing his wrists as if applying the right pressure points would let it out. 

Would let  _him_ out. 

“Call me Wax.” The words were dripped into his ear like melted  _wax_ , molten and magnificent and murderous. Wax wanted to break him in two, wanted to bury himself in Reece’s fire until he could call it his own, until he could finally  _commit_ to one above all others. 

The release of fear was all too grounding.

The kiss had been too much, too soon, however. Reece fell onto his knees, holding his face mere inches above the dying leaves as he coughed up sparks violently, pieces of himself no bigger than thumbnails, pain no worse than when the day had started and yet sharper, brighter, reeking of cinnamon.

Gentle, steadying, _grateful_ fingers brushed his back, twisted in a way Reece couldn’t unbend, merely wait for his fire to replenish itself and only then heal. Until… bones that were split snapped back together and Reece gasped as a hand cupped his neck, hoarsely screamed out his promise to a world that could now only watch. “Reece.”

Another hand latched onto his waist, grasping the sore skin there, blood pooling in wait underneath. The other still held his neck even as sparks continued to spill out past his lips, singing chapped skinned and nearly melting through his tongue. “It’s nice to meet you, Reece.”

_Wax wax wax wax wax._

He pulled in breath after breath after breath, each one less frigid and fuller than the one before. His voice wasn’t his: torn and trampled and scraped back up, raw and trembling. “Why are you helping me?”

Wax’s thumb and forefinger crept up and down his spine as if he had been invited, as if Reece had invited him. “Back when I was in the force, I had a partner, a fire like you. He had back problems that would flare up every once in a while, nothing bad enough to affect the job, just some of the day-to-day stuff. You, kiddo, it doesn’t look like you’ve taken care of yourself in a  _long_ while, am I right?” 

Reece swallowed. If taking care of himself meant going back to where he had been, he’d force his body into submission enough to kill it.

“No family or friends to help out, huh?”

Reece straightened his back without issue and blinked back leftover tears of a pain he could no longer taste. “How do you…?”

Wax pulled back enough that Reece’s fire finally settled. “Like I said, I used to be a cop, so I know people. Come across a lot of fires in my time, a lot of them used up until there wasn’t much left. Some of them I helped, some of them I couldn’t, but they _all_ stuck with me. In _here_ ,” Wax tapped his head and Reece’s eyes widened. He had never met anyone who’d known more than one fire. He suspected that’s why he had never been anything but used, because no one really knew what the hell else to do with him. 

Wax, though, his eyes were soft and his hands weren’t grabbing at him, just holding him in place, tethering him to this Earth. His voice was low but normal, easy and conversational. And all his words were making Reece have dangerous thoughts, of whether society had  _really_ abandoned him and robbed the world of all its mercy. “And now? What do you do now?”

He seemed almost regretful at the question. “Now I’m retired.  _Semi-_ retired, anyway. I’ve seen enough shit to last twelve lifetimes.”

“I could say the same.”  _And a lot of it,_ I  _committed._

Wax nodded, patient, understanding, holding out his palm for Reece to take. If he knew any of the damage Reece had caused, and he  _must_ have suspected some of it, it didn’t seem to matter to him. “Will you come with me?” 

The hand took most of his weight on the way up, not that Reece needed it. Wax had somehow tamed enough of the fire within him that he could breathe easy again. He felt like himself too.

He hadn’t felt like  _just_ Reece in such a long time. 

Wax was right: his place wasn’t far or large or close to any form of civilization. It was just right, small enough to remain unnoticed, nearly camouflaged against the trees and inviting enough that Reece stepped across the threshold easily. He had nothing to compare it to, but it felt like a home.

Reece had to tell himself not to be  _too_ eager. “It’s not much, but it’s cozy enough I guess.” Wax pushed Reece down gently into an armchair, nearly completely obscured under various throws and blankets, and he removed the jacket he had given Reece and replaced it with one, wrapping it tight around him as if knowing Reece wouldn’t. 

He left, for no more than a few minutes, until the house was filled with the heady aroma of freshly brewed coffee, a specific flavor Reece couldn’t quite place. He realized them how clear he had to make himself, how he didn’t believe in happy endings or an unmarked living alone in the woods like this, untouched by society and by judgment and just waiting,  _waiting_ for him. 

Reece couldn’t believe in anything but his likely, impending death.

The protest bubbled up inside him, more protective than practical; it was fully formed when Wax returned. “I’m not a mental case or a charity case or someone you can just  _fix._ I’m not…”  _Weak_ . But he was, who the hell was he kidding? And it wasn’t like he had a lot of options. 

Wax fit a hot mug of coffee securely into his palm, not too hot but hot enough to meld well with his skin and psyche. “‘Course not. I’m just good at back injuries. And used to getting burned.” He cracked an easygoing smile and Reece realized that he had just made a joke. No one made jokes about fires. No one made jokes to lighten the room for him either.

No one had ever kissed him like Reece’s fire was the most tantalizing drug in the world.

No one had held him as if he was worth more than just his fire, standing against it while repairing the damage it had wrecked on his body, pushing it back and holding it down until Reece could get his head up above water again.

Reece started, heart beating furiously in his chest when Wax’s hand grasped his own, the one currently resting, shaking on his knee. His whole body was shaking too, thrumming with uncertainty but excitement, all of him alive with an energy he had never felt before. “Drink your coffee, then you can follow me into the bedroom. My hands aren’t just for holding.”

Reece was intimately aware of that now.

The coffee was warm and sweet and settled in his belly comfortably, which worked out well for him since it was the first of many to come.

**FIN**


End file.
